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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647529">To Answer the Bell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk/pseuds/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk'>BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BoJack Horseman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, Episode: s06e15 The View from Halfway Down, Gen, Horse puns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, In Which I Reimagine the Final Moments of this Haunting Episode, Self-Confrontation, Spoilers, Tar Pit, door - Freeform, not really a rewrite, planetarium - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:15:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk/pseuds/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>"I’m done being a bitch to ambition</em><br/>
<em>I’m already rich</em><br/>
<em>I got a head that’s full of million dollar questions</em><br/>
<em>And the length of it</em><br/>
<em>Is I don’t need the courage to work</em><br/>
<em>I want the strength to quit."</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>- George Watsky, "Lovely Thing Suite: Roses"</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>BoJack Horseman &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Answer the Bell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PLEASE DON'T READ THIS UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE SHOW</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>"I...need to make a phone call," </em>BoJack sprints off the stage, trying to work around the figment of a house he feels he's in</p><p> </p><p>The void bubbles at the doorframe, spilling, dripping, now gripping at the frame, reaching out for him further and further, suddenly running at a similar speed,</p><p> </p><p>What must be done has been done, for the void, or tar, or poison—the black? The night? The stars? <em>Those stars?</em> It's that self-beckoning, surely! Perhaps the desire, the act, of getting this all over with—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Uh, I need you to help me find a phone?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wrong move, you stupid piece of shit--</p><p> </p><p>BoJack yells in terror, the omen engulfed like the rest, now the one trying to catch him, clawing and clawing and clawing—<b>DOOR</b>!</p><p> </p><p>The skid of his heels stops him from falling, but he trips, landing right next to a <em>"Phone!"</em></p><p> </p><p>Her number always had so many fours, he dials quickly</p><p> </p><p><em>"Diane? Di-"</em> Suddenly silence, then broken by croaking neighs, of darkness that doesn't just bubble but just <b><em>grips</em></b></p><p> </p><p>The horse's ears droop, and the harder he grips the phone, the harder the tar does on him</p><p> </p><p><em>"...Di...ane—"</em> And a whinny from the horse's mouth—a long hard kick to the urethra!?!!? Wasn't life itself the one responsible for that?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"<strong>You have reached Diane Nguyen. Please leave a message,"</strong></em>
</p><p> </p><p>BoJack drops the phone, and it shatters like a bottle of vodka, the sting of its smell and the sound of its tone filling the air</p><p> </p><p>He feels the pierce of the glass on his hand in trying to keep it away from his blurring vision</p><p> </p><p>He sits in defeat, leaning at the feel of the doorframe, the grip loosening down like some viscous liquid</p><p> </p><p>It stinks, and his nose doesn't lie—the stench of it mixing with the aroma of the vodka is putrid</p><p> </p><p>There's one large shard on his left hand, that of which he pulled out gently</p><p> </p><p>No blood, only more of the darkness that he could've sworn was what he had been eating earlier</p><p> </p><p>On that large shard was a reflection of a drowning horse, with the colors of a painting, or perhaps the colors of fleeting life? The pills, the pills, the pills—</p><p> </p><p>Why do the pills sparkle? And suddenly the pool water darkens, night-like, not tar-like; if he's going to die, at least he'll die just like poor and broken Sarah Lynn</p><p> </p><p>Bojack glances at his right hand, the shards reflecting the starry waters of his clearly inevitable oblivion</p><p> </p><p>He suddenly cries out anger, hitting his fist against the floor, ready to feel the continuous piercing of gl—</p><p> </p><p>A grip! A grip! <em>"What, no! No! No! No! No—"</em></p><p> </p><p>The darkness jumps out of the door again, gripping and gripping from wrist to neck, taking shape, taking form—</p><p> </p><p>Gasping for air, BoJack tries to attack the tar the same way—it's gross and painful, and how terribly painful is the rotting of his shaking fingers the more he exposes them to death,</p><p> </p><p><em>"You're not going gentle into that good night, aren't you?"</em> The darkness sings a hoarse voice of an identical cadence—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>...it's you, alright?! It's you.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p><em>"No!"</em>  BoJack cried out, <em>"N-NO!"</em></p><p> </p><p>The dark horse merely sneered at him, tar spilling like saliva as he spoke, <em>"What are you doing here?"</em></p><p> </p><p>He chokes BoJack some more—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>What the fuck is wrong with you?!</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p><em>"I-I,"</em> BoJack's crying now, as if fire was coming out of his tearducts, <em>"I don't know why...I—</em><b><em>aghck</em></b><em>—c-came here,"</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, you do,"</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>"I can't—</em><b><em>agh</em></b><em>!"</em> There's a warmth coming out of all of his crevices, and BoJack hates the feeling of it, <em>"—breathe, </em><b><em>I'm drowning! </em></b><em>I-I'm drowning!"</em></p><p> </p><p><em>"Don't you know how to swim?" </em>The tar bubbled out, letting BoJack taste the bitter darkness in drops and tastes</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>...it's important to breathe.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p><em>"I-" </em>BoJack is taken aback by how suddenly touchy-feely the darkness was, his violence now soft caresses—gestures too soft it might as well be unwelcome</p><p> </p><p>A snuggle of his snout against his, and BoJack swears everything began to smell like chlorine, bubbles of starry light coming out from his nostrils—</p><p> </p><p><em>"What?"</em> He brays in confusion, his jacket being slowly removed from his person and his pants more loose than usual</p><p> </p><p><em>"A little early, don't you think?" </em>The void replies sensually,<em> "You know there's no going back from this, right?"</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>We didn't even do anything—</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>A <strong>PUNCH</strong> and a deafening <strong>ROAR</strong> from death itself, as though it got hit in the face, and BoJack sprints away, buckling back his pants and adjusting his jacket</p><p> </p><p>It's hard to move, and the horse himself knows he's trying to swim despite the puddle-like sounds from his trotting feet</p><p> </p><p>Wake up, wake up, wake up—</p><p> </p><p><em>“You’re never gonna get off easy, BoJack,”</em> The dark horse rises from the ground, blocking BoJack’s path in a threatening manner</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“What do you mean ‘get off easy?!' I’m pretty sure I’ve gone through the so-called process of cancellation!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I don’t think they agree,”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And BoJack screams at the sight, the darkness bringing his attention to a mound of familiar corpses under his feet</p><p> </p><p>This is covered again in tar</p><p> </p><p><em>“What else am I supposed to learn?!”</em> BoJack yells at the shadow,</p><p> </p><p><em>“I know I’m dying!”</em> He hyperventilates between every word,<em> “A-and I know, I-I know...”</em></p><p> </p><p>The void softens its stance, staring into him with starry eyes</p><p> </p><p><em>“I know I did this to myself,”</em> He wipes his tears, <em>“I killed myself,”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Killing, but sure,”</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“That’s all I’ve been doing, right? I really haven’t...”</em> BoJack is down on his knees, <em>"changed..."</em> hearing nothing but the beeping of the broken phone, feeling nothing but the burn of deterioration from the darkness surrounding him</p><p> </p><p>The figure walks to the poor and broken soul, lowering himself to BoJack’s level on one knee</p><p> </p><p><em>“Right,”</em> He’s gentle with BoJack, both in voice and gesture, <em>“now how’s about we take you down easy, okay? Wouldn’t that be nice?”</em></p><p> </p><p>BoJack isn’t responding</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Softly, into my arms now,”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>But BoJack stops him,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Can I do one thing first?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You don’t have much time,”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The horse then pulls out all the shards from his hands, attempting to piece them back together</p><p> </p><p><em>“I wish this got easier,”</em> BoJack remarks softly, watching the jagged piece of smartphone glass in his hand glow alight</p><p> </p><p>The figure was gone</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Huh—“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Where’s my fallen superstar?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“It’s Todd speaking! How are you Todd-night?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“What is this, a series finale?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“BoJack?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>A blinding light, upon a watery stage</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>BoJack inhales,</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>A horse dancing in the pool</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Oof, that’s gonna mean prison time!”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“As if it’s his first,”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Wait, really?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The pills are an oddly pretty sight, akin to a line read from a page</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>BoJack stares at the mess</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Gone from life’s stable was this drowning fool</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“You know I’m in Chicago, BoJack! Why did you call me?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Is it just me, or am I a fabrication of a dying psyche, because I just want to make you feel better!”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I hope you die knowing about your power over me! Remembering what you just left me—”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The family came in with a screeching fright, what’s left of the horse they could not gage</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>BoJack exhales,</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The sin of the stallion could only be so cruel</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>BoJack feels the light above him fading, the burn spreading now from within, the phone beeping speeding,<br/><br/><br/></p><p>The tar evaporates, the room dissipates<br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The only thing that matters is--</p>
</blockquote><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <em>"...right now, this moment..."</em>
</p><p>A flatline, and suddenly the lifeline is the punchline.</p>
  </div></div>
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